


Love Me and Despair

by Queenofthedragonsharks



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Light Angst, M/M, Multi, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-12
Updated: 2015-06-25
Packaged: 2018-03-01 05:23:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2761208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queenofthedragonsharks/pseuds/Queenofthedragonsharks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Luthien made a different choice before Morgoth's throne? What if Luthien chose a different path, a path of power and shadows?<br/>An au that came about for one reason. One night the idea of an awesome evil and badass dark queen Luthien popped into my head, and it grew like a weed. It explores the idea of Luthien choosing to become Morgoth's queen, and the effects this choice had on all of Arda. Will go all the way through to the events of LotR, and features some pretty intense violence, as well as sexual themes. And I'm angbang trash, so prepare for that. Please read and review, I'm actually really proud of this one, and I want to know what people think</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Before the throne of shadow

**Author's Note:**

> So here is chapter one. I really hope you all enjoy this. Tell me what you think, and if you have nay ideas of things to add. I'm always looking for co authors

Luthien danced, through smoke and fire and the thick air of curling despair, she danced, spinning and twirling, cast upon dark thick fumes in the hall of fear, her song ringing out until it filled every corner, every crack, casting a spell like dew upon those she flitted above, her winged cloak taken from the evil bat creature casting her like a leaf on the dark wind. And they slept, slumbering in the dark hall, as her voice fell , her movements unending and desperate. Morgoth's eyes blazed before her. All of the malice and shadow in the world caught within their depths. A spell of sleeping, a brief binding that would send him crashing to the floor. She could do it. She could cast him down. And then what? The voice in her head was her own, soft and hesitant. She tired to push it aside, hovering in the air. And then what? Take the Silmaril, flee, flee to war and ruin and death. The Silmaril shone out, blindingly bright, a gem that bought only blood. It would buy only blood for her family, for her people. What had she ever been? Luthien Tinuviel, fairest of all of the children of Illuvatar, that and only that, her beauty the mark all distinguished her by, rarely anything else was said or thought of her, she was to them all just a jewel, no different than the shining gems before her eyes, wrought by Feanor, bringers of death. What was she? Daughter of a father who would hold her captive, who kept her within the shadows and trees. Daughter of a mother so great and distant, who she loved and yet never understood. Precious princess of a hidden realm, to be protected and lusted after and hidden well. A gem to be traded and bartered over, a maiden still after having lived countless years, kept hidden like a child. The thought that came to her then was one that had haunted the edge of her mind for weeks, dark and evil, and yet never more tempting. She saw Morgoth's dark power, and imagined what she could do with it, imagined what she could do if she earned his trust, if she took on the mantle of queen, dark and terrible. What she could do. She was not even sure if she wanted to protect or to rule, if she had that power. She knew only that the image of herself as a dark queen, terrible and powerful, had haunted her for weeks. No longer a gem to be won, but instead one to whom the people bowed in fear and awe. Her own being, for the first time more than just what others saw her as. She felt her song changing. She looked at Beren, cast sleeping like a beast upon the floor. Man who she loved, man who loved her. What awaited them together? She would watch him grow old and die, he would feel his life slip away, his bones grow old, as she stood by unchanging. And that was if they lived at all. In the end all that awaited them was a final sundering. She imagined letting him sleep on, bargaining for his life, sending him far from here, to wake up with all they had lived through a faint dream. He would stand and wander, find a new home, find some mortal woman with whom he could spend his short life in joy. She had faltered to long, Morgoth would not be held forever. With a shudder Luthien realized her decision was made, and with a final keening note she fell to the ground, standing unafraid before Morgoth's throne, meeting his eyes, though they burned her to the soul, and refusing to look away.  
“What's this? Why do you halt your dance, your spell?” His vice was thunder and fire and death, the cries of countless dying.  
“I do not wish to send you into sleep.”  
“What makes you think that you could?”  
“If I wished it, you would be cast upon the floor now.”  
His laughter rang out, like metal grating on stone. She forced herself not to look away.  
“I have a proposition for you oh lord of shadows.”  
“The little minstrel thinks she can make deals with me now?”  
“Yes.” She took a breath. “I would become your queen.” She saw the shock shine out in his eyes, a fact which gave her a rush of satisfaction. There was a long moment of surprised silence, and then his laughter rang out again, although it was not as easy this time. It was confused.  
“My queen? What lies you spin. The fair little bird would come to be willingly, and thinks she can beguile me.”  
“I think that you can see the truth of my words, otherwise I would be cast down into shadows already. You are given pause.”  
“I am amused, nothing more. Why would you wish that? You, fair elf maid, daughter of Melian, friend of all that is good. You lie, in a desperate bid for life.”  
“If I wished it you would be asleep, Beren and I would be fleeing with a Silmaril cut from your crown. No lord, I speak truth. I am Luthien Tinuviel, fairest of all the children of the world, a gem that is bartered, a captive in her own home, seeing only the twilight and never beyond, seen only as a fair toy to be traded. You are no different from any other, looking upon me with lust. But I see in you some spark that I understand. You were the fairest of all once as well, you were the greatest and most beautiful. But you wanted to break away. You saw beyond the designs that were laid out for you. And your punishment for this was banishment and darkness. You think I do not understand what it is to be trapped? You think I do not understand what it is to see beyond the simple dull deigns you are expected to follow? I see what there is in this world, what there is to be done, what can be done. I do not wish to be under the rule of any one, no matter how great. And in that, foul lord of carrion and shadows we are similar. You create chaos, I can turn that chaos into a sort of mad sense.” She fell silent, refusing to look away. Morgoth looked at her long and hard, and she felt as if the flesh was being stripped away from her bones. Finally he spoke.  
“And what of your precious home? What of your mortal plaything? I do not believe you would leave them to suffer.” He was not casting her down. He was intrigued despite himself. Luthien smiled.  
“No. I intend to bargain for their life. I will have Beren sent far from here, to safety, I will have you leave my parents realm alone, not that you have much of a choice. You know already, so there is no sense in hiding it, that I will want to manipulate you into giving me what I want.”  
This time his laughter was neither confused nor cruel, but genuine.  
“I underestimated you Luthien daughter of Melian. You aren't just a pretty gem with sweet enchantments, are you? You are a cunning and bold creature, if a bit naïve and rash.”  
“I have had long years to hone my skills. And singing and enchantment are not my only talents. I have watched the politics play out around me, I have learned how these things work. A keen and cunning mind is a powerful weapon when none expect it of you.”  
“What is to stop me from taking you now? By force? What is to stop me from taking you as a thrall, killing your human and using you as I see fit?”  
“What is to stop you?” She gathered all of her strength. It was time to play her final card. “Nothing. But what would be the fun in that? You grow bored oh dark lord, you grow restless in your power. What use am I as a thrall, seething with hate and pain? No lord, as a queen I am something else entirely. I am a puzzle, I am something new, I am an opponent, a challenge. I am the way you rise beyond all of this. I am the piece that none saw coming. I can help you play your dark game, and I can help you win.” She let her cloak fall, revealing all that she was and staring directly into his foul eyes. There was no going back now. There was no laughter from his foul mouth now. He stared at her long and hard, his expression one of anger and something else entirely. It felt like agonizing hours passed by as she stood under his gaze. Finally a smile broke out across his face.  
“You intrigue me daughter of Melian. I was going to kill you where you stood, a moment ago, as you spoke your twisting words. I was going to strike you down. But you intrigue me. I do not trust you, and my instinct is to cast you down now, into torture and darkness. But you are a cunning creature, and you speak with more knowledge of my mind than any would expect. No daughter of Melian, I will not kill you. In fact...” He stood, and it took all of her strength not to shrink away. “I think that I will accept your offer, or think on it, though do not let yourself think that you have won. I trust you less then I trust the Valar.”  
“And I trust you less than that.” She shuddered internally. She had done it. The horror and elation mixed inside of her in equal measure.  
“So then speak your little terms. I am amused to hear what you wish to do with your human toy.”  
“Beren will be sent far away, somewhere safe a green. His memory of our trials together will be to him but a dream, a sweet dream to hold within his breast. You will not harm him, nor suffer any of your thralls to harm him. And you will not harm my family,or their realm.”  
“You speak with confidence, as if you can command me.”  
“I though I was to be your queen. A queen has a say in her kings workings.”  
“Ha, queen! You can barley stomach to look at me.”  
“I did not choose this path because I lusted for you. Your appearance worries me little. It is your power, your realm, that intrigues me.”  
“Very well. I will humor you. Your human will be safe, if only because he will pose not threat. And I can not attack the realm of your foul mother anyway.”  
“You will not use me as a bargain tool to treat with my mother and father.”  
“Ha! You are a bright one.”  
“You will not let it be know that I am here, you will not let my choice be known, nor use me as a piece to gain my parents realm.”  
“That would be a poor way to treat my queen.”  
“You have little worry for me feelings.”  
“That is true.”  
“It is therefor wise for me to think these things through.”  
“Very well little enchantress, I will humor you in that respect as well.”  
“So here we stand.” She looked around, shaking, finally allowing her nerves to catch up with her, looking around the dark noxious room, at the faces of his foul host.  
“Here we stand. I hope my servants will awake soon. I want them to meet their new queen after all.” His eyes glinted with amusement, malice, and something else unreadable.  
She didn't say anything, simply walked over to where Beren lay, singing softly, weaving sleep deeper into his mind. She gazed upon his face, the face she loved so much. She would always love him, hold her memory of their time within her breast. But he deserved a better life then she could give. She let her tears fall on his face, laying her hand on his cheek and leaning down to give him a lingering kiss. Her murmured in his sleep, his hand finding her face.  
“Goodbye Beren.” She stood up and turned around, to find Morgoth watching with a smirk on his face. She met his eyes.  
“He is wrapped deep within sleep.”  
“Fine fine little thrall who would be queen. He will sleep long I hope, and on the morrow I will send him away, send him away to this green land you speak of.”  
“If you harm him I will know.”  
“I have no reason to harm him, and I don’t find myself tempted to do so. He's a fool.” He laughed again, but she ignored him, turning back to Beren.  
“May our time together be to you as a sweet dream.”  
“So what now little queen?”  
“I need a place to sleep” She stilled her shaking hands, forced the tears away. She had made her choice.  
“A wife usually shares her husbands bed does she not? Isn't that how your custom dictates it should be? Or has that changed in my time away?” His smirk split his entire face, utterly terrifying.  
“I am not your wife yet, and I have journeyed hard, I need a room to rest, a place to clean myself, fresh clothing, provisions. I need a place where I can gather my thoughts. Alone.  
“Haha, again with the demands. And again I will humor you, if only for my own amusement. I suppose I room can be found for you, little queen.”  
“Very well, I-” She was cut off with a rush of air, darkness enveloping her suddenly. Utter darkness, the very air being crushed from her body. And suddenly it was gone, passed, and she found herself gasping for air , crouched to the ground. Morgoth loomed above her, smirking.  
“Angband is a massive place. Unfortunate fools have gone mad wandering these halls, never to find their way out. My way is faster, Here we are, this room should serve you well.”  
“You left Beren alone with your lackeys! They'll awake and-”  
“I moved your toy as well. Now still your tongue.”  
She looked around the hall, the walls wrought of polished dark and twisting marble, glistening like entrails, maddening to look at, the fire from the torches shining off of the coils, the floor twisting red like blood and flame.  
“I trust this is to your liking.” He gestured to the massive door, the knob a tortured face, twisting in agony. It flew open, and Luthien walked slowly in, turning to speak, but finding it slamming in her face, Morgoth vanished. She shivered. He had locked her in surely. But when she tried the door it swung open. He was playing along. She stepped back in.  
The room was dark, thick as ink, she couldn’t see far ahead. With a tentative whisper she stepped forward, her body aching. Her step seemed to trigger something, and with a rush of air, light burst out around her, lamps of fire magically springing to life above her head. She found herself in a large high-ceilinged room, twining pillars rising to the ceiling, which was etched and painted with scenes of fire and war, and of creation. The walls were smooth and reflective, as opposed to the maddening twists of the hall, the fire reflecting off of their black surfaces from every angle, both terrifying and beautiful. No wonder the walls needed no adornment, the fire reflecting upon them was art enough. The floors were black and shining as well, etched with red and gold, thick rugs, beautifully made, spoils of war likely, soft on her feet. She walked forward, through this strange room, looking at the shelves that were carved into the walls, lined with strange books, scrolls, objects which blazed with strange power, treasures stolen in war, or made with skill of hand. The room was long, and a huge arched window sat at the end, looking out over the madness of the fortress, the towers and spires, logic defying bridges of stone over chasms of fire, the mountains rising like black claws, She realized that this long room jutted out from the side of the fortress, like the prow of a ship.  
A simple door next to the window led out to a balcony, the very edge of the fortress itself, and below her there was empty hair, down and down until it met a fiery chasm. She felt her stomach seize in fear and awe, and quickly stepped back inside. Under the window there was a soft seat, gold and black, soft pillows red like fire scattered over it. Such fine things for this horrifying place. She looked over to the far wall, and found the bed, huge, canopied and elaborate, made of the same black marble that made up all around her. It was carved with strange runes and beings, gold and red. She supposed Morgoth had a color scheme. She wouldn't have guessed him to take such care in the appearance of his home. Maybe this was to impress her. He seemed to have some vanity, She ran her hand along the blanket, red, orange, blue white, shining with gems. Like fire. The bed was soft as air, like a cloud, gossamer scarves of red providing the canopy. This bed was far to large for one. She closed her eyes. She would have to lay with him. The thought caused her stomach to tie into knots. But they were not all of disgust and fear. She slid off the of the bed. It was high off of the ground, and she fell without grace, having expected her feet to touch the ground immediately. She ran her hand over a huge desk of polished dark wood, drawers built all along it's length, an elaborate armchair wrought to look like a dragon pushed against it. There was a beautiful quill, and an ink pot like a roaring dragon, wrought of ruby.  
A burbling alerted her to water. That made no sense. She wandered the room looking for the source, admiring the strange dark beauty of the place, until she found another door, leading into a smaller room, the walls and ceiling entirely made of mirrors. And in the center there was a huge bath, steaming hot, a fountain in the center flowing constantly, made to look like a maiden, her mouth open in a scream, the water pouring from it. Luthien walked closer slowly, the lifelike eyes of the statue disconcerting her. The floor of the bath was tiled in gold and red mosaics, forming a magnificent dragon. Shelves were lined with glass bottles, holding liquids of various colors. The whole room had a sweet heavy smell. She opened a bottle and blinked in surprise at the strong smell of lily’s. She was disconcerted by the mirrors, seeing her reflection all around. She did not want to self reflect now. In any way. She looked at her face, and saw a haggard maiden with eyes that had seen to much, her hair still growing back from her escape from Doriath. She was bruised and beaten, her clothes hanging off of her in rags. With a rough sigh she slipped them off, staring at her ribs, staring at the bruises and cuts that covered her body. She slipped into the bath, slowly easing herself down the stairs, into the steaming water.  
The sensation was instantiations and all encompassing, her entire body held gently in the water, almost scalding, and yet she enjoyed the feeling, sinking into the water and leaning her head on the edge. She let herself drift off, just floating in the steaming water. How was it that the steam did not fog the mirrors? Eventually she forced her eyes open and reached towards the shelf, selecting a blue bottle and swimming towards the fountain. When she uncorked the bottle it let out a strong scent of roses. She poured some of the liquid into her hands, lathering it through her hair and over her body, and then letting the stream of water from the fountain wash it clean. The warm water was heavenly, and she was tempted to stay in the bath forever. With a sigh she swam back to the steps, climbing out and looking for something to dry herself with. As if on command, she saw a soft pile of towels in the corner. Whens she lifted one to her face it was soft and warm. Once she was sufficiently dry she wandered back out of the bath room, leaving her rags behind. She had a feeling she would find clothing in this room. Indeed, she found another door, which opened into a room lined floor to ceiling with various garments, all of which seemed to be in her size. She gave a bitter laugh  
“Lord Morgoth spoils me...” This room was lit by the same strange fiery lamps. She ran her hands along the soft fabrics, admiring the elaborate embroidery, the strangeness of all of these garments, so unlike what she was used to. Well, some of them were, it seemed there were also garments near identical to the styles she had worn in Doriath.  
“Am I dressing for dinner I wonder? I doubt he’ll leave me here forever. I might as well dress well.” She searched aimlessly through the room, finding collections of lovely shoes, drawers and displays covered in jewelry. She decided to simply pick what caught her eye. She kept her mind on the task at hand, not allowing it to wander to the scale of the choice she had made. The path she had chosen. She could self reflect later. After a while she selected a kirtle of shimmering deep red, with long flowing sleeves, and over that a surcoat of gossamer black shimmering with red like sparks of fire and blood in the night, it's cut low, long sleeves falling over those of the kirtle, but slashed in the front to reveal the undersleaves She searched some more,finding a strange band made of strips of gold, which rested just below her breasts.  
There was a vanity with a large mirror, and she settled down on the stool, finding a pair of large golden earrings, and a thick heavy necklace, reminding her of dwarf craft, three red gems edged in gold hanging from the band. With some searching through the drawers she found some blood red paint for her lips, a dusting of black powder for her lashes. She looked at her hair, still wild and to short for her purposes. She closed her eyes, remembering the songs her mother had taught her, focusing her energy as she sang, feeling her hair grow longer, until it reached well past her waist, There was no point in keeping it short anymore. She let it falls loose down her back and around her face, but took much of it, twisting it into braids and buns, elaborate patterns that sat high on her head, near the back, the way her mother had always done it for her. And finally she searched for a crown. She would be his queen, whether he wished it or no. She found no crown, but an elaborate golden headpiece, inlaid with shining red. She remembered shoes at the last moment, fining pair of simple red silk slippers. She had hated dressing and putting any effort to her appearance when she was young. A wild little thing. The only reason she had ever learned to dress herself was her father's insistence. Her mother had loved to do her hair, singing softly. Luthien felt a pang. She looked at herself in the mirror, surprised at what she saw. She was dark and strange, frightening, another woman. She left the clothing room, biting her lip.  
“Well what now? All dressed up and alone in this strange room. I wonder if my gracious will see fit to make an appearance.” She wandered back to the window, staring out. This main room felt so empty, so huge. She would need to fix that. As she gazed out at the scene below, someone softly cleared their throat behind her. She started with a yelp and turned, her hands raising in defense out of habit. She found herself looking at Morgoth. He had shrank down to be closer to her size, though she noted he was still taller than her. And she was considered tall, though her parents still towered above her. He could change his size but not much else. She remembered her mother telling her that he put all of his will out into his works, and thus trapped himself in his single form. She looked for the seven wounds, given to him my Fingolfin, the wounds he could not heal. His face was scared and strange. Some of his old beauty seemed to remain, under his dark visage, which made it all the worse, that strange mixture. His face was terrible to look upon, his eyes boring into her soul. And yet he was not hideous. There was a strange frightening raw beauty to his face, all the more horrible for this fact She could not explain his appearance, nor process it fully. He was surrounded by a constant roiling cloud of smoke and a hint of bright fire, the ground around him seeming to crack, magma shining through. But when he moved the floor was as it had been. The Silmarils blazing in his crown filled her heart with strange awe. She gathered herself and met his eyes, pits darker than night, or the deepest places of the earth. They were the darkness from the void beyond the world, and they were beautiful and terrifying.  
“My lord Morgoth.”  
“I see the little minstrel dresses well.” His eyes roved over her body. She bit her lip.  
“You can call me with a title of respect, as I call you.”  
“So many demands pretty one.”  
“I even give you permission to call my simply Luthien.”  
“Ha ha, I should take your head off. But instead I'll again humor you. Very well then Luthien,I suppose yew wish to eat.”  
“I do require sustenance, though I doubt you do.”  
“True, but I can enjoy the act of consuming food. It's amusing.” His voice was like thunder and flames and screaming. She forced herself to refrain from shaking. Without warning she found herself sucked back into the dark vacuum, her lungs being crushed, as if she was held tightly by a huge hand, until she was suddenly released and found herself in a small intimate room, the walls the same twisting marble, with a high round table of gold set with several tureens and dishes of food, pitchers and chalices balancing delicately on the edge. She smoothed her dress.  
“I will never come to know my new home if you always insist of whipping me about with no notice.”  
“Sit.” He gestured to a golden chair, and she pulled it out, settling down across from him, stomach churning in fear and elation. She cautiously took a plate, taking some of the strange fragrant stew that steamed in the largest tureen, and finding a warm roll as well. There was so much food on the table, and she felt her stomach clench. She did not want to eat. But she reluctantly took a bit of everything, and poured herself a glass of the wine, sipping at it slowly and taking nibbles of the food. For his part, her host ate with relish, never once taking his eyes off of her, never once seeming to blink.  
“So than bold one, you dance into my realm, and name yourself my queen.”  
“I suppose so.”  
“You are a strange creature Luthien daughter of Melian.”  
“So they tell me.,”  
“Heh, well, you intrigue me. I see much harm that lays in taking you as my queen, but I will do it anyway. The passing of ages grows dull without a challenge.”  
“I would agree.”  
“And I look forward to tearing that pretty dress off of you after this little meal.”  
“That won't be happening.”  
“Oh really? And why is that?” There was a dangerous glint in his eyes.  
“I wont just be taken like some prize.”  
“What did yo expect to happen?' He offered her a bunch of grapes, his hands blackened and cracked, burned long ago by the Silmarils.  
“I won't lay with you after a meal and some stiff conversation.”  
“Ha, I should say you'll do what I ask of you. What do you expect me to do, sit here and fuck you with my eyes?”  
“I expect you to seduce me, lord Morgoth.” She took a breath. This was dangerous game. There was a long pause, and then his laugh rang out again, like crunching bones.  
“Seduce you? What do you expect me to do? Weave pretty crowns of flowers for your shining head? Sing to you of the world ere I came and marred it? Give you pretty gifts and whisper into your ear? How naïve are you girl?”  
“I did not say court me. I said seduce me. Do it in your own way, but win me, make me want to come to you willingly. Without magic or trickery, or lies. Seduce me.”  
“And why should I not just take you now?”  
“Because you've already said you crave challenges. You could have me now, across this very table, but what is the challenge in that? Think of it as a game, a challenge in which the end is me in your bed.”  
“You play a dangerous game girl. Always waving the idea of a challenge before me. I do not bow before any, least of all you. But very well, I am in a mood to humor you. I will seduce you Luthien daughter of Melian. But you had best hope it doesn’t take ove long. I am not patient, and I will not wait forever.  
Luthien smiled. Let the game begin.


	2. In dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The game is on. In the madness of Angband, Luthien and Melkor fight a battle of wits, and in the realm of dreams a dangerous game is begun.

Melkor smiled to himself, alone in the bowls of Angband. The girl had gall. Marching into his fortress, in through the main gates, and facing him. Singing his host to sleep, and meeting his eyes to barter for what she wanted. And before that, well, he had heard stories. Her reputation preceded her. She was more than what he had guessed though. Not just some lovesick maiden. No. She had all of the power of her mother, but with a cunning mind and an ambition all her own. In short, she was dangerous. And he liked that. She had seemed to understand more of his inner mind then many had in a long passage of years. And she would be queen, that was her wish it seemed. What dangerous game was she playing? He smiled at the idea. He was fairly certain he intended to follow through, and actually take her as a consort. What a strange idea. Mairon would not be pleased. But then again, Mairon was often displeased, and Melkor had found that their love making was the best at those times. Heh, he would hate this girl though. After all, she had defeated him, pinned him beneath her boot and sent him fleeing.  
Seduce me,she had said. He had not seduced anyone for a long time. Not since Mairon. And that had been easy. He had been so willing, so curious Well, maybe not willing. But he had been an easy field in which to plant the seeds of discontent, and his fall had been one glorious to watch. This girl, he wondered what would seduce her. To his surprise, he found himself looking forward to trying.  
Xxxxxxxx

Luthien was deep in the realms of sleep, her mind drifting upon the fields of rest. She had always enjoyed sleep, even over the meditation most of her people seemed to prefer. For the last few hours she had been in darkness, no dreams to disturb her slumber, but now she found herself walking alone through an endless plain of mist unable to see anything around her. She rolled over in bed, enjoying the soft sensation, unwilling to wake up.  
“What a strange dream.” She reached out to touch the mist. It was strange, thick and clinging, forming shapes which she could not quite discern. The silence was deafening. Suddenly she felt one of the frigid tendrils of mist brush her face, eerily similar to a hand. She turned with a start, and found herself met with naught but the swirling mist, shimmering around her. But again she felt a cold hand on her arm. Instead of starting this time, she held still, waiting. The hand which was resting on her arm seemed to solidify, forming into a solid entity, growing to include an arm, which slid around her waist and pulled her against a currently invisible form which seemed to be standing behind her. She shivered, the unnatural cold seeping into her bones. Another hand formed, moving to wrap around her, and she heard a rush of air, felt the presence behind her fully enter into being. She closed her eyes, breathing deep.  
“Lord Morgoth.”  
“My lady Luthien.” His voice was directly in her ear, his breath warm against her skin.  
“How kind of you to interrupt my pleasant dreams. I had no idea that ability was in your arsenal.”  
“In my home there is little I cannot do. And I would hope that I am the one who makes your dreams pleasant.” His lips where resting against her neck, and she felt his smirk against her skin.  
“Dreams are Irmo's area no?”  
“Oh, the dreams he delivers are no fun. I feel I have much more to show.” His breath sent shivers up her spine. She felt his hand move up her arm, sliding under her dress and moving down. She twisted her head to meet his eyes, and was surprised to find that he was changed in appearance. He was beautiful, strikingly so, indescribable. In short, he was as he must have been before he fell. The smile he gave her was dazzling and entirely disconcerting, frightening to behold  
“Surprised little queen? In dreams I am not trapped in one form.” His hands had both slid under her dress now, resting on her hips, one finger twirling patterns downwards on her skin. She felt the hair on her arms rise, and breathed in sharply.  
“What a surprise.”  
“Isn't it though?” Again his lips rested on her neck, sliding down to find her shoulder. She had a distinct feeling that she knew where his hands were going to end up. The idea was strangely tempting, and to her surprise and annoyance, she found herself faltering, wanting to let this lead where it would. But she shook herself and pulled away.  
“You are good at this Lord Morgoth, more so than I would have thought. But I do not think I'll allow myself to be seduced in dreams. Now goodnight.” With a rush of intense focus she forced the mist to fall away, the darkness to return. And as suddenly as it had begun the dream was over.  
Melkor stood there a long moment, a smile growing on his face.  
“Hmm”  
xxxxxxx  
Luthien awoke the next morning with a splitting headache and a dry mouth. She rolled slowly out of the huge bed, shivering. How could a place brimming with fire be so cold? She supposed there was ice as well, shining out on some of the mountains against all reason. This place defied any logic. She wrapped her arms around herself, the sheer red night dress was not nearly warm enough. Why did her head hurt?  
“I'm starved.” She lifted a soft scarlet blanket off of the bed, which seemed to have an endless supply, and wrapped it around her shoulders, enjoying the warmth that enveloped her. She wandered absently across the room, towards the door. Morgoth had said that people were often lost in the madness of Angband, but she didn’t feel like waiting in her room until he saw fit to appear again. She turned the knob and pushed. The door was heavy, ridiculously so, but eventually she managed to push it open, walking hesitantly out into the mad twisting passages of Angband. She could go one of two directions, and so she opted to simply go by instinct, setting off down the hall.  
Within a few moments she was regretting this action. The maddening twists and turns, the light reflecting off of walls twining like entrails, the constant deep thrum surrounding her, and the occasional shout, cry, or mysterious noise appearing from nowhere. And she had no idea where she was. To make it worse, the temperature frequently changed, going from freezing to boiling within moments. She should have worn shoes.  
“Lost?”  
“A little.” She didn't start this time, simply turned calmly and leaned back against the wall, meeting Morgoth's eyes and trying to look unconcerned. She was briefly startled to see him in his waking form, having seen him last in dream.  
“I told you Angband is no place to wander.”  
“I didn't intend to wait alone in my rooms until you saw fit to show yourself.”  
“If you had waited slightly longer I would have been there shortly.”  
“I grew impatient.”  
“Clearly.”  
“I trust your dreams were sweet.” His smile split his entire face.  
“Mostly. They were interrupted however.”  
“Is that so? I wonder why.”  
“So do I.”  
“Well, don't worry, I'm sure your dreams tonight will be even sweeter.”  
“I hope I don’t have any. Last night's dreams were quite enough.”  
“Oh, but I was under the impression that you were enjoying the dreams.”  
“Is that so? Well regardless, I do hope you'll offer me something to eat.”  
“Of course.” His eyes traveled ove her, and she realized that she was wearing nothing but the sheer night dress. She bit her lip and cleared her throat. “Hopefully at some point today.”  
Without warning he stepped forward and wrapped his arm around her waist, and before she could protest, the darkness was crushing around her again, unbearable. And again, it cleared suddenly, and she found herself once again in the same intimate room from the dinner the night before.  
“Warn me next time.” She shifted, making to slide out of his grasp. However, he was holding on tight, and she was pinned against his chest.  
“Excuse you lord Morgoth, but I did not ask to be held.”  
“You didn't hmm?” Like in her dream the night before, his breath was warm on her ear. Luthien breathed in sharply, trying to clear her mind.  
“I am sure that I didn't.” With a hard twist she pulled away, settling down at the table and raising an eyebrow. She saw annoyance, and danger flash across Morgoth's eyes, but he sat down as well, food appearing upon the table as he did. Soft rolls and a tureen of thick cream, strange dark fruits and a porridge that had a strong tangy smell. And wine. Always wine. She carefully took a bit of everything, trying to hide how hungry she was.  
“Is there any water?”  
“Now there is.”  
A glass appeared in her hand, and she jumped in panic, dropping it, only to find it resting calmly on the table. A cautious sip revealed it was cold and sweet.  
“Is Beren safe?” She met his eyes. She had to know.  
“Yes. Gone this mourning, to a soft green land far from here.” He flicked his fingers, and an image flickered into being, clear and sweet, Beren resting by a brook, breath soft. It flickered away. She searched Morgoth's face, trying to discern whether he told the truth. She could not tell truly, but she detected no lie. And that image, it was to sweet and real for him to conjure from his mind. No, he was to corrupted. She felt a well of emotion rising in her throat, and sent silent prayer to Beren, wishing for him safety and love. She cleared her throat, forcing back tears.  
“So why have I not run int anyone in these massive halls? And why does it seem we only visit two rooms? Are you hiding me away Lord Morgoth?”  
“Oh no. I'm simply waiting to reveal my new queen.”  
“Waiting for what?”  
“Waiting until I've seduced you, as you say.”  
“That may take a while.”  
“Oh really?”  
“Yes, really.”  
“What do you even mean by seduction I wonder?”  
“You'll have to figure it out yourself.”  
“I am not patient.”  
“You waited ages to sow discontent among the Noldor.”  
“Smart girl. But I do not wish to wait so long for you.”  
“Well, then you had best seduce me.” She lifted the glass to her lips, but before she could drink she found herself seemingly lifted, and again whisked into the crushing dark. She was going to kill him. This time she managed to keep her composure when the dark lifted, although she nearly lost it when she saw where she stood. They were on the very edge of a jut of rock, shooting out from the top of the tallest tower, the world a dizzying blur beneath her. She stepped back, feeling her legs threaten to give out beneath her. A rough laugh burst out behind her, and she wheeled in anger, facing Morgoth.  
“Your surprise is a pleasure to watch Lady Luthi-” He was cut off by stinging slap of light that stung across his face. Luthien smiled in grim amusement, pleased to see the surprise cross his eyes.  
“Do not whisk me where you will like a plaything. I will be treated with respect!”  
“You overstep yourself girl.” He loomed above her, voice dangerously low. She tried not to quiver under his gaze.  
“No, you are the one who oversteps himself.” She wondered briefly if he would hurl her from the edge. He stepped forward, and she tensed, ready to spring. She expected him to attack her, but instead she found herself held tightly in both of his arms, his lips pressed against hers, his grasp nearly crushing her bones. She could feel the heat rolling off of his body, like fire. She leaned into him, grabbing onto the collar of his robe and savagely returning his kiss, feeling her teeth cut his lip and draw blood, the strange bitter taste filling her mouth. A long moment passed before she pulled away, looking up at him defiantly. His tongue flicked to lick the blood from his lips. The light that shone out in his dark eyes was dangerous and wild. She felt her own storm of emotions and sensation threatening to overcome her senses, but pushed it down, pulling herself away and standing facing him, wiping the blood from her mouth. There was a long moment of tense silence. When he finally spoke his voice was sharp.  
“You can find your own way back.” With a sudden turn he vanished, the ground around his feet blackened and cracked. Luthien blinked in surprise.  
xxxxxxxxxx

As it turned out, it took the rest of the day to find her room again, and by the time she stumbled upon the door by pure chance, she was utterly spent, her eyes filled with tears. The halls truly seemed to radiate a dark sort of madness, and she felt sick and disoriented, her throat burning, longing for water. She had carefully avoided any of Morgoth's servants when she came upon them, unsure what thy might do to her. She had been on the verge of laying down in despair, her entire body burning, scorched and dry, when she found the door, forcing it open with a sob of relief. To her surprise there was a pitcher of water waiting on a small golden table, and she grabbed it with shaking burning hands and lifted it to her lips, downing the entire thing, spilling it over her face and body in the process. She slumped to the floor, looking at her arms, scorched and dusted with ash, her dress torn and blackened. She stayed on the floor for a long while, letting her body calm itself, aching muscles screaming in protest. Eventually she stood, dragging herself to the bath and sliding in, floating for what felt like hours until she had calmed her mind. When she felt sufficiently soothed she pulled herself from the bath, drying off and stumbling to bed, laying down in the soft cloud-like blankets and sighing. She sung herself to sleep that night, letting the songs of her childhood rock her into the world of dreams.  
Xxxxxxxxx

Melkor stared at the fires of Angband, lost in his thoughts. He was deeply disturbed. He wanted to seduce her, to his disgust, he wanted her to come to him willingly. He licked his lip again, still tasting of blood. She was far to bold. He should have cast her down into flame and shadow for her actions. And yet he found himself smiling, and desiring her even more. But how did one seduce her, stubborn fierce little bitch that she was? And repulsed by him as well. And yet he felt her strange desire. He had felt her breath hitch when he touched her, sensed the desire that she felt rising within her breast. And yet she pulled away and scorned him. She had wandered through the madness of Angband today, and manged to find her way back all on her own. Lucky girl. She slept now, and he wondered if he should again invade her dreams. He doubted it would serve any purpose, but found himself tempted to do so regardless. With a sigh that sent fissures of magma and spikes of ice splitting across the floor, he closed his eyes, willing himself into the plane of the mind, and following the strands of glimmering mist that led to her dreams. He expected to find the entrance closed, and to have to force it open. But instead he found the passage wide open. Suspicion pricked at his mind, but curiosity was stronger. When he entered her dreams this time, he found the mist swirling in thick tendrils, but clearing, giving way to a strange darkness, a soft forest filled with glowing lights which danced among ancient trees. Doriath. He smiled. At last he saw what it looked like. Somebody cleared their throat behind him, and he turned to find Luthien, leaning back against the gnarled trunk of an ancient tree, hair loose, dressed in naught but an airy garment of deep blue, falling off her shoulders.  
“Lord Morgoth.”  
“I see you were ready for my visit tonight.” He tilted his head, a mixture of anger and admiration boiling inside of his stomach. She shrugged, absently plucking a flower that grew up the side of the tree and twisting the glowing golden thing around in her hands. The whole forest was luminescent, every plant seeming to glow, spores of silvery blue floating upon the air, dancing. What a lovely place. Pity he could not destroy it. He saw the stars shining clear above, and wrinkled his nose, before turning his attention back to her. “What a lovely dream this is.”  
“I figured I'd let you catch a glimpse of Doriath, seeing as you will never see it in reality.” Her smile was easy and mocking, and the need to throw her to the ground struck him, mixed equally with a desire to push her against the tree and fuck her until she screamed his name and nothing else. He calmed himself, raising an eyebrow.  
“How kind of you.”  
“I am a kind woman.”  
“I noticed you had a bit of trouble today. Little thrall got lost in the halls of Angband. I must say, it was a pleasure to wat-” He was cut off by Luthien, who moved forward like a flash and took him by the collar, spinning and slamming him back against the tree.  
“I did not appreciate your playing a little game and watching me suffer as I ran through your halls in near madness.” She leaned close, eyes sharp. He waited, his curiosity over weighing his anger. She leaned yet closer. “That,” She sharply ground her knee into his crotch, sending a wave of heat up his body, “was very rude lord Morgoth.”  
“Was it now?” He smiled, and emitted a small groan as she ground against him again. He was already hard, his anger mixing with arousal.  
“Yes, it was. In fact.” She pulled him forward, and then twisted, pushing him to the ground. It was truly a wonder what dreams allowed for, he mused, waiting curiously to see what she would do next. She dropped down on top of him, sitting up and straddling his hips, her hair forming a curtain around her face as she looked down at him. “I have an idea of how to get revenge on you.”  
“Do you now? I must admit, I'm looking forward to your revenge.”  
“Are you?” She ground her hips against his, the sensation a mixture of pain and pleasure that caused him to arch his back. “You may not enjoy it so much, lord Morgoth, when you hear what it is. You see, I think I'll play a game with you. I won't lay with you, nor allow you to seduce me. I will tempt you.” she ground against him again. “For you're no different from any other when it comes to your desires. You'll be half mad with lust by the time this little game is over. I wonder if you can last it?”  
He felt laughter rumble up inside of his chest, both enraged and delighted over her little idea. With a grunt he sat up and flipped Luthien to the ground beneath him, leaning above her and running his hands along her sides, pressing his weight over her supple body.  
“I wonder if you can last the game lady Luthien. Why, you seem to have needs same as me.”  
“I appreciate a-” She leaned her head back and moaned slightly when his hands found her breasts. “I appreciate a challenge.”  
“I do not think it will last long. Why, you already seem ready to end it lady Luthien.  
“Do I? You are sadly mistaken.” The world around them flickered and faded, the strange woods giving way to mist. Luthien gave a crooked smile.  
“You can find your own way back.” And with that she was gone.


	3. Forbidden Fruit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The game continues

Luthien sat on the balcony, staring out at the madness of Angband. She was admiring its strange beauty, while at the same time desperately missing her own home. Morgoth had not shown his face for two days. She had passed the time exploring the many nooks and crannies of her chambers, discovering several other small rooms in the process. One was entirely filled with strange books, while the others were largely empty. That would have to change. She was afraid to leave her room and get lost again, but she intended to do so unless her gracious host made an appearance today. For her part, she had enjoyed the time alone, reading on the seat under the huge window, floating in the bath, and practicing, stretching her mind for what was to come. And what was that? She wondered. A dangerous game surely. She placed another one of the strange red seeds onto her tongue, crunching the sweet tangy thing between her teeth. The red fruit had been left in her chamber that morning, along with a pitcher of water and a steaming porridge. It was strangely beautiful, circular and thick skinned, coming to a tower on the top. When she sliced it open she found beautiful seeds, like red jewels, resting inside the white flesh. She remembered seeing this fruit once before, long ago when she was a tiny child. It had been a treat from her mother, a fruit grown in the blessed realm. She wanted a necklace made of these strange little gems, strings of the strange pearls. She held a single jewel up between two fingers, watching the light shine through the red, showing the thin seed in the center. With a smile she crushed it. The juice ran down her hand, and she flicked the seed over the edge of the balcony, watching it fall into the fiery abyss below. Whatever was to come, it would certainly be interesting.  
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Melkor opened the door without knocking. It had been long enough. He would not wait any longer, hiding away from a simple maiden. He scanned the room, searching for her. She was nowhere to be found. He glanced into the bathing room, and found it empty, to his disappointment. With growl of annoyance he walked to the window opening the door out onto the balcony.  
“Good morning my lord Morgoth.”  
Luthien was sitting perched on the carved stone bench formed by the wall, her hair twisted up into an elaborate pattern of braids and knots held with gold pins. Her feet were unshod, crossed before her, and her sheer dress was a personal favorite of his, red and gold, draping over her body, allowing him to see the outline of her from beneath the fabric. He licked his lip lightly, running his tongue over the cracked skin. She held the pomegranate in one hand, and as he approached, popped one of the seeds into her mouth. It landed on the tip of her tongue, and she crunched it lightly between her teeth, licking the red juice from her lips slowly.  
“Lady Luthien. It’s been far to long. I see you’re enjoying the breakfast I sent.”  
“Yes.” She popped another see into her mouth. “I'm glad to see you finally made an appearance. Though this doesn’t bode well for you winning the game. Look at you, unable to stay away.”  
A ripple of rage shot through him. He stepped forward, smiling menacingly.  
“You flatter yourself lady Luthien.”  
“You make it easy.”  
“I could toss you from the balcony now, end this little game.”  
“Always with the threats my lord. It's not very charming.” She stood, stretching towards the sky, allowing one sleeve to slip down her shoulder. “You should try another method.” With a casual movement she tossed the now empty rind of fruit over the edge of the balcony, into the fires below.  
“And what method is that? You still want me to seduce you? I thought we were playing a game now. What was it you said? That you would drive me mad with desire?”  
She shrugged easily. He wanted to cast her down. Instead he smiled.  
She was standing before him, seeming to be thinking hard. Finally she leaned forward, her breath stirring his hair.  
“I don't intend to loose the game lord Morgoth.”  
“OH really? And what if you’re the one driven mad by desire?” His hands shot forward, pulling her against him and pressing his lips against her neck, gently biting the soft skin. Luthien gave a small moan, reverberating against his teeth as he pulled her lips to his. She arched against him. He smiled in triumph. A moment later she twisted away, smiling.  
“A valiant effort Lord Morgoth. But I am not so easily won.” She leaned forward her lips brushing his, hands traveling over his shoulders, fingers twirling patterns over his skin. “This will be an interesting game.” With that she pulled away, turning her back and looking out over the world below once more. “We play these physical games, these little attempts to tempt one another, and yet we do not speak of the true reason I am alive and free.”  
“And what would that be?” he tried to push away the desire and anger he felt welling inside of him.  
“If you just wanted my body, you could have taken that. No Lord Morgoth, the thing which gave you pause when I stood before your throne was my words. The strange insight I had into your mind. You see in me a puzzle. You are as curious about the inner contents of my mind as I am about yours. Am I wrong?” She didn’t look at him as she spoke, but leaned her weight against the railing and watched the sky.  
“Maybe you are. And mayhap you are simply a maid who thinks over much of herself.”  
“The fact that I stand within the depths of Angband alive and well, treated as a guest, is a testament to the fact tat I am justified in thinking much of myself. I stood before your throne and met your eyes, I won the freedom of the man I loved, and I gave you pause, and made you question yourself. First of any to do that in many long years, I, Luthien Tinuviel, a so called simple maiden, faced Morgoth and came out alive. And more than that, I came out victorious, I think. None of those great princes and kings managed that, did they?” She finally faced him again, her smile like a knife. When he had heard of her beauty, he had imagined it soft. It was not. She was terrifying, beautiful in the way of the raging storm, her lips like blood and her eyes like sparks. Melkor wanted to laugh at her gall, her bold words, her delusions. But they were not delusion, and thus he simply stared. Finally, after a long moment of silent storms of anger and lust and even admiration, he smiled.  
“Maybe we should talk more. If only because I think words seduce you better then a touch.”  
“Maybe in that you are correct.”

Xxxxxxxxxx

Despite their conversation, they did not see one another again that day. He had dinner sent to her rooms, and he waited in his chambers. Something like fear kept him away, but he refused to call it that. No…it was unease maybe. He wanted to gather himself before he faced her again. It was long into the night when a knock came at his door. He grunted, and the heavy thing flew open, revealing two burly orcs. One was holding Luthien by the arm. She was dressed in red silks and fine jewelry and throwing a venomous glance at her companions.  
“My lord, I found this elf bitch wandering the halls She demanded to be brought to you. She called herself your queen. What do you wish me to do with her?”  
Morgoth blinked, and he was next to them. Luthien drew herself to her full height.  
“I am his queen scum, and as I said, if you do not unhand me now, I will have you cats into the fires to burn away like the beasts you are.” Despite his confidence the orc looked shaken by the rage and power emanating from the elf. Morgoth found himself speaking without really meaning to.  
“Unhand her now, thrall. That is no way to treat your Queen.”  
Luthien looked as surprised at his words as he was. The orc blinked.  
“I- My lord, I didn’t know…please forgive me. This…this is your queen? How long has this been-“  
“Silence before I cut your tongue out.” He had laid his cards out now, and he might as well go along with his play. With a sigh of annoyance, he turned to Luthien.  
“What should we do to him? His fate is yours to decide.” He was surprised at the look of excitement that crossed her face.  
“Kill it. Throw him into the flames.”  
This play-acting had gone too far now. Not that he was reluctant to kill his henchmen. But he had given her too much power. However, he could not afford to be the merciful one.  
“Very well.” He snapped his fingers, and a chasm opened beneath his feet, the flames singeing the bottom of Luthien's skirt, causing her to leap back. He smiled slightly at that before tossing the sniveling orc into the flames. Unlucky bastard. The chasm closed with a crash.  
“As for you.” Luthien turned to the other orc. “I spare you, for you were not as forward. Go tell your companions of the Queens mercy, and her rage.”  
The orc ran out as if the werewolves of the pits were on its heels. Morgoth blinked again, and felt laughter bubble up inside of him when he realized what had just happened. Laughter and anger.  
“You planned that all, didn’t you? Two orcs were no match for you. You allowed them to bring you here, and you gambled on my reaction. Damn you, you knew that if all went well, you could announce yourself to my minions. You crowned yourself without any ceremony.” He wanted to throw her across the room, but he was finding that his admiration outweighed that. Damn her, she was more then he had expected. She simply smiled modestly.  
“I do what I can My Lord.”  
Without a word he cast himself down into a twisted chair, fashioned from charred metal, and corpses long ago coated in magma. He was rather fond of it. Luthien looked disturbed when she saw what it was.  
“Sit.” With a gesture he pulled her to him so she straddled his lap, her face inches from his. She had an intoxicating scent, slightly sweet and clear, somewhat dark and mysterious, which he could not place. Some of her long hair brushed his shoulder, dark and fragrant.  
“What is this you think you’re doing?” She tossed her hair, eyes hard.  
“Speaking with you. As you so fiercely wished.”  
“I usually prefer my own chair.”  
“Do you? In my home, we have a different custom.”  
“Your home is lacking in manners”  
“Is that in any way a surprise?”  
“No.” she shifted her weight slightly, giving a long sigh of annoyance. “It isn’t. Very well my lord Morgoth, let us talk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm finally back!This chapter was so short because it’s been almost five months and I want to give y’all a little treat and I love you.  
> I promise I’ll post the next wanderer soon.  
> Man, it’s been so long.  
> Sorry I’ve been so silent, things have been so busy, and I’ve been readjusting from my four month semester abroad.  
> Much love


End file.
